“Oh really?” asked the Russian.
“Look, you know this is a fantasy. Do you really believe what this Vatican reject has told you? Do you really believe in his science fiction? Think of the embarrassment back in your country when this is all shown to be a farce. Right now, even though you’re a murderer and a thug, at least your countrymen respect you. But if you push the button and then nothing happens, not only will you be taken into custody, but you’ll also have to live with the ridicule of such an embarrassing spectacle for the rest of your life. You’ll be the laughingstock of Russia.”
Mironov's smile was replaced by a dark scowl. Carmen knew she had hit a raw nerve. She could see the Russian’s anger flare as he reached out and grabbed her neck, applying enough pressure to make her uncomfortable. “Don’t you dare call me an embarrassment… you Italian whore.” Carmen met his gaze and felt the pressure of his hands cutting off her ability to breathe. “And you mark my words—”
Before he could finish, another beep sounded off from inside his jacket. He released Carmen’s neck, and she coughed twice. He pulled out his radio and held it close to his ear. The Russian paused for a moment, listening to the other person talk. He had a look of confusion on his face, but that look changed to one of suspicion. He spoke into the radio again.
Mironov stuffed the radio in his pocket and walked back over to Koehler, clearly bothered by what he had just heard. Leaning down, he asked, “Where are we now?”
“The security check just finished, so I’m going to increase the energy level to ten TeV,” he said, clicking over to another screen.
“Move it to fourteen, and do it quickly.” Fourteen was the highest energy level planned for the LHC, but one that scientists wouldn’t be ready to test for several more months.
“What? You said—”
“You heard what I said — Move it now.”
“The energy shouldn’t be increased that much before—”
Mironov wrapped his hand around a pistol that was hidden inside his coat pocket. Leaning up against Koehler, he pressed it into the German’s side. “You defy me one more time and you will be permanently removed from your post.”
The word “permanently” was not lost on the German, who quickly made the appropriate entries. Several warning boxes appeared on the screen in sequence, and in each case, Koehler was required to click “OK,” acknowledging that all systems had been checked and that he was aware of the potential danger.
The computer began to buzz with activity. Ten seconds later, a notice appeared indicating that the electromagnets were being initialized. The screen then went dark before transitioning to an animated representation of the LHC. The collider possessed two tubes that ran side by side for twenty-seven kilometers, forming a giant ring underneath the earth. A beam of energized protons was being transmitted inside each of those two tubes, one moving in a clockwise direction and another moving in a counterclockwise direction. The animated version on the monitor showed the two beams moving slowly then increasing in speed as the electromagnets began to do their work. Once the beams reached the desired energy, their paths would be crossed in four separate detectors, bringing about the desired collision.
“How much longer until we hit fourteen TeV?” Mironov asked.
“In approximately five minutes,” Koehler replied.
Mironov smiled as he watched the animated beams increase in speed on the monitor, a representation of the colossal collision that was about to take place almost two hundred meters below the earth. He didn’t particularly like taking the risk, but he also didn’t know how many Americans were still out there.
It was only seconds later that it hit, a trembling that seemed to rise beneath the earth. It grew so intense that Mironov had to reach over and grab the wall of the cubicle. The guards throughout the room began to look around, not sure what to think.
And then Mironov realized what was happening, and when he did he smiled. They were on the verge of victory.
The tremor was coming from the collider itself, and that meant that the heavens would begin to part soon.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
As he had only heard and not seen the men approaching the parking deck, Philippe had no way to tell which stairwell they were coming up. He could still hear their voices below, but the echo effect made it impossible to determine which direction it was coming from. He probably wouldn’t know that until they burst out on his level, and by then it would be too late if he wasn’t hidden.
He had briefly thought of crawling underneath one of the vehicles, but if they happened to choose the one he was under he’d be flattened like a crepe, unless he could somehow manage to crawl under another one before they pulled out.
In the end, he did the only thing he really could do, which was to sprint back toward the first stairwell he had come up. He was about to enter it and travel up to the third level when he heard voices a few feet away. He had guessed wrong. The men were about to come out.
His heart thumping in his chest, Philippe stepped over and hid behind a concrete column just outside the door to the stairwell. If the men came out and looked around, he would probably be seen, but if they moved immediately toward the vehicles, he would likely escape detection.
Standing in place behind the column, Philippe held his breath and remained perfectly still, his shoulder only inches from where the men would exit the stairwell. Two seconds later the men came out, passing within inches of where Philippe stood. They seemed to be headed toward the vehicles, but then they stopped. Philippe could no longer hear any footsteps or voices, only silence. Had they seen him? Were they drawing a weapon? Philippe couldn’t see from where he was standing and didn’t dare peek around the corner.
Suddenly the silence was broken by a clicking sound, followed by more cruel silence. His pulse racing and his palms sweaty, Philippe risked a look. Turning his head ever so slightly, he saw something that caused him to let out a sigh of relief. The two men had stopped about halfway to the vehicles so that one of them could light a cigarette. That man’s head was tilted back as he blew a plume of smoke into the air.
Philippe used the opportunity to slip into the stairwell. Yes, he risked being heard, but he also knew that if he waited until the men got to the vehicles, one of them might turn around for one last look.
Once he was out of view, Philippe paused to listen for anything that might indicate he’d been seen. The men were still talking in low tones some distance away, probably an indication they hadn’t noticed him. Philippe decided to go to the third level instead of down. It seemed as though Mironov and his men were parked on the second level, which probably meant the next one up was empty.
After sprinting to the top, Philippe saw that the third level was indeed deserted. He also realized it wouldn’t be a place that he could stay for very long. The exposed area was bearing the full force of the storm, with the wind blowing so strongly that the snowflakes were stinging his face.
Philippe crossed over to the ledge facing the buildings. After getting down on one knee, he peered over the top of the concrete wall at the first one directly across the street. There were lights on inside, but they were dim, and it was almost impossible to see anything.
Despite a runny nose, Philippe thought he smelled smoke, so he stood up and looked down over the edge. Directly below him were two heads sticking out of the second level. The Russians taking their smoke break were directly below him, arms resting on the ledge.
After getting back down on one knee, Philippe felt something bounce around inside his coat. The monocular. He had almost forgotten about it. He pulled the instrument out, placed it against his right eye, and aimed it at the windows across the street. As he turned the focus wheel the interior came into view, but only dimly. He could see a massive cubicle with shadowy shapes gathered inside.